Neal makes a softly amused noise, letting his hand drop onto Malcolm’s knee. “No. First one was getting isolated and bitten by a vampire outside during the middle of a blizzard. Raylan found me in the snow.”
He can almost feel it now, the fog of anemia and burgeoning frostbite. “I don’t remember it, really, not after he had his teeth in me. Just being scared and getting more and more tired.”
Neal toys with the leftovers on his plate with his fork, other hand still on Malcolm’s knee.
“The crush was hard to miss,” Neal says, and it’s hard to tell if his tone is teasing or pained. Even for him. “But it wasn’t because of that. He’s a US marshal.”
Neal pauses, realizing he’s never mentioned that particular fact. “And I’m… me.”
Neal ducks his head, smiling a little. “I was still expecting the worst, back then, when it came to law enforcement. Any law enforcement. I was waiting for him and you and everyone else to stop looking at me like a person and start looking at me like a criminal.”
That question takes Neal a little by surprise, as though Malcolm should know the answer to that one by now. “Because you’re amazing.”
He shifts a little to hug Malcolm against him. “Because… you didn’t look at me like that. Because you’re funny and kind and smart. We could talk about anything. And…”
He traces his hand up and down Malcolm’s arm nervously. “Even when we fought, I wasn’t scared that you’d leave because of it. I wasn’t afraid you’d give up on me.”
“Not a lot.” He has to think about it, beyond the obvious. “We disagreed sometimes about how Ainsley treated you. Particularly right after she got there. We only had two really big fights, which I guess is… still a lot for three months. The first one was after I died the third time. You were upset that Negan and I put ourselves at risk that way, but you said you were sorry as soon as you saw me again. Then… Raylan, when it all came out. When you said you’d stay with him. I tried to convince you that you deserved better, and I don’t… think it was just because that’s true.”
That gets Neal to relax. He smiles a little. “It’s about time someone did, then.”
For a second he studies Malcolm’s face, tracing all the similarities between this man and the one he knew first, all the little differences. He touches Malcolm’s cheek.
“I would be his friend,” Neal says abruptly. “The Malcolm I knew first. I would be his friend, if he showed up here. But I don’t know if I’d be something else.”
“I want to always be a safe place for you,” Malcolm tells him. “Even if… I mean. Even if you have to make choices I don’t… want. I still want to be a safe place for you, always.”
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“Second,” he says, softly ironic. “Or third, if you count tripping over a teenager’s frozen corpse right when I woke up.”
The way he says that almost like a joke makes him shudder at his own attitude.
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He can almost feel it now, the fog of anemia and burgeoning frostbite. “I don’t remember it, really, not after he had his teeth in me. Just being scared and getting more and more tired.”
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“The crush was hard to miss,” Neal says, and it’s hard to tell if his tone is teasing or pained. Even for him. “But it wasn’t because of that. He’s a US marshal.”
Neal pauses, realizing he’s never mentioned that particular fact. “And I’m… me.”
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"I work for the police, you know," he teases, bumping Neal's shoulder with his elbow gently.
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“I’m not sure,” he finally says. “I think… maybe around the time I fell in love with you, though I’m not sure when that was either.”
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"If you don't know when that was... do you know why that was?"
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He shifts a little to hug Malcolm against him. “Because… you didn’t look at me like that. Because you’re funny and kind and smart. We could talk about anything. And…”
He traces his hand up and down Malcolm’s arm nervously. “Even when we fought, I wasn’t scared that you’d leave because of it. I wasn’t afraid you’d give up on me.”
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He's very curious but trying to sound casual.
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That last part is quietly ashamed.
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“I… Yeah, I guess so.”
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A vague little gesture. “When I tell them not to say things about you?”
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“Sometimes it surprises me, because nobody’s ever stepped there before, but it’s not an overstep,” he promises, giving Neal a kiss.
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For a second he studies Malcolm’s face, tracing all the similarities between this man and the one he knew first, all the little differences. He touches Malcolm’s cheek.
“I would be his friend,” Neal says abruptly. “The Malcolm I knew first. I would be his friend, if he showed up here. But I don’t know if I’d be something else.”
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“What makes you think so?” Malcolm asks quietly, somehow, even though he feels like he’s holding his breath.
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"I don't know." He leans in and up to kiss Malcolm. "I just... know."
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“I’d want to help him. I’d have to. He’s… my best friend.”
He closes his eyes a moment, leaning his forehead against Malcolm’s arm. He’s confusing himself again trying to think through this. “But you’re.”
Guilt squeezes at him, makes breathing hard. “You’re… safe.”
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“I want to make choices you want,” he says, wondering if that’s somehow the wrong thing to say.
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